I heard a song today
“I come from a long line of bitches”
Which brought thought to my mind 
There are two very different lanes 
The women in my family drove in 
There was the straight and narrow 
Where everything was neat and clean
Prime and proper, the wildest hair 
Was from rising from the altar on Sunday 
Full of light and love and a lot of pretending 
If Stepford Wives had a magazine 
They would have surely made the cover
Then the others were full of grit and vinegar
With their candles burning at both ends 
Firey curls, rarely tamed even near the fire
They were the tenders, the bootleggers, the runners,
The feral and nocturnal primal spirited queens
They were the ones who taught me everything 
Everything I know about how to survive.